


Purple Angel

by ourcrashdownblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Confused Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Hair Washing, Hair-pulling, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourcrashdownblue/pseuds/ourcrashdownblue
Summary: After a run-in with a witch that douses Castiel in power-binding goo, Dean helps Cas out of his sticky situation (and into another one).
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 196





	Purple Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own or reserve any rights. Thanks so much for reading!

“Tell me again why you can’t just mojo this crap off of ya?” Dean asked.

“I’ve told you, Dean, whatever this ‘crap’ is, it’s adversely affecting my grace,” Cas sighed, “It is bound to me.”

Dean could hear the annoyance dripping from the angel’s voice, and he chuckled at the almighty eye-roll he received.

Dean stood at the sink in one of the Bunker’s many bathrooms, wetting a washcloth under the faucet and smushing it together to get all sudsy. It made the hunter’s eyes crinkle with a smile to look at the angel’s grumpy form sitting on the lip of the tub like that.

“So you’re telling me that your grace don’t have nothing on a little  _ Ajax _ ?” he laughed.

“In a way, I suppose so,” Cas gritted out, fixing Dean with a glare.

Dean and Cas had just wrapped up the witch case they'd been flying solo on, and the job had gone off without a hitch. Well...almost. When Dean and Cas had cornered the witch in the cellar of her ironically Stepford-Wives-esque house, the psycho had gone and thrown some kind of purple, rubbery goo all over Cas from her apothecary’s bowl. Immediately, Cas’s clothing and motions had become slow and syrupy--like he was walking through honey. The purple goo had started to bind him, and only stretched a little before snapping his limbs back in place like the snap of a rubber band. He’d yelped a very un-angelic yelp when he’d lost his balance and fell flat on his face. And while some had gotten on Dean, as soon as he’d realized that it wasn’t sticking to him in the same way and wasn’t, like, gonna melt him alive or something, he’d ganked the witch real quick. 

He’d carried Cas fireman-style all the way back to the Impala when it’d become clear that bunny-hopping his way up the cellar staircase was not going to happen. Dean had nearly dropped him twice from laughing so hard ( _ “This isn’t funny, Dean.” _ ). Luckily, the case hadn’t been more than a few hours drive from the Bunker--which was why it had been only Dean and Cas in the first place--so they were able to return home right away. 

Jack and Sam had been sitting at the map table on their respective laptops when they’d arrived. Dean had beamed at Jack’s laughter as he carried the very unamused angel down the metal staircase in front of God (figuratively) and everyone. Sam had set about finding a reversal spell of some kind, or at least a counter potion to clean the substance off. Jack had disappeared for a moment while Sam had started sifting through their card catalog and Dean had unceremoniously plunked the angel down into a chair. Though Cas’s little situation was testing his angelic patience, Dean was laughing it up enough for the both of them.

When Jack had returned, he’d had a rag and dish soap in hand. Dean had started to tell the kid that normal stuff wasn’t gonna work on this hoodoo, but, lo and behold, it had actually started rubbing off. Go figure. Magic could get pretty trippy sometimes. The only catch, they quickly realized, was that you had to scrub insanely hard before the purple stuff would eventually pill up and crumble away. 

Sam and Jack had worked to scrub away a straight line through the goo while Dean had propped Cas up against himself with a chuckle as the angel huffed. Once they’d completely broken a line through the rings of goo the rest that remained on his clothing had seemed to lose its constricting powers. Suddenly, Cas had control of his limbs once again.

What had to be cleaned off by hand though was the stuff that stuck to his skin like gorilla glue, and whatever the weird crap was, it was also inhibiting Cas’s grace while it was still on him. 

The angel was currently seated in Dean’s AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of his sweatpants since he was unable to mojo himself a new suit and trench coat. The well-worn shirt sat differently on Cas than it did on Dean, it wasn’t as snug in the shoulders and the neckline dipped a lot lower than the angel’s usual dress shirt he was used to seeing. The olive skin of Cas’s arms and exposed neck was a little hard to not gawk at. Dean licked his lips, but brushed the thought away.

“Alright, man,” Dean smiled at the purple-faced angel, “I’m gonna have to go pretty rough on your face to get this crap off and without your powers...just, ya’know, brace yourself.”

“Dean,” Oh look at that, Sassy Cas was making an appearance, “I was an angel in Heaven’s army, I think I can handle the abrasiveness of terry cloth.”

“Okay,” Dean chuckled, “but don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

Dean began to rub at the angel’s forehead first, thinking that was as good a place to start as any. And, Jesus, this stuff was really holding on tight. The smile had faltered from the hunter’s face as soon as Cas started to squirm and wince as the goo was torn from his skin. Dean had his hand cupped around the back of the angel’s head so that Cas didn’t have to fight his own muscles so hard. He had slowly gotten farther into the angel’s space as he’d had to put more and more force into his scrubbing. Cas grunted out small pained noises that made Dean wish he hadn’t been teasing him so much before.

“Sorry, man,” Dean muttered, the playfulness gone from his voice.

“I’m fine,” Cas bit out.

“Dude, I promise, I’m done making fun of you, alright? This looks like it must hurt like hell.”

The angel’s shoulders relaxed a little at that and so Dean began to talk, hoping maybe a conversation would distract the poor bastard. They talked about what movies Dean wanted to show the angel, and even though Cas had not been a big fan of Tombstone (and there was way more to that movie than just  _ guns and tuberculosis _ , did Cas even  _ look _ at Val Kilmer), there was still a bunch of classics Dean had yet to show him. Dean decided that, as a treat for kicking that witch's ass today, he’d introduce Cas to one of his all time favorites:  _ Die Hard _ \--and it was gonna be  _ awesome _ . Just him and Cas. Maybe he could even convince Cas to stay in Dean’s pajamas while they watched the movie. Cas would probably be more comfy like that anyway. And sue him, Dean liked it when the angel let loose a little. 

By the time Dean had wiped the last of the purple from Cas’s face, the angel’s eyes were watering. Dean winced at the red and raw skin of Cas’s cheeks, his eyelids were a little puffy. 

“Damn, that looks like it stings, huh?” Cas’s wide eyes and little frown only confirmed it, “Hang on.”

Without letting himself think too hard about it, Dean grabbed some of Sam’s dorky face lotion and put a big old dab on his palms and rubbed them together. Cas cringed when Dean’s hands touched his burning skin, but as the hunter continued to slather the thick lotion on, Cas’s face started to slacken under his hands.

“I can heal myself once the last of this substance has been washed from my body, you know,” Cas stated, but if he was gunning for annoyance at Dean’s over-attentiveness, the way he was keening into the cool touch of Dean’s hands was undercutting it.

“Just shut up and hold still,” Dean smirked.

“If you insist,” Cas sighed, and Dean couldn’t help the little clench of...something in his chest at the look of relaxation on the angel’s face.

Dean smoothed the remaining spaces of Cas’s face with the lotion before drawing his hands back and wiping the excess off on his own t-shirt. He threw the wet rag into the sink and grabbed the dish soap bottle from its place by the faucet. This next part was not going to be pleasant for the angel if the face-scrubbing was anything to go by.

“Alright, Cas,” Dean eyed the angel’s matted, rubbery hair as he straddled the tub’s edge beside Cas and sat down, “buckle up, this  _ isn’t _ gonna tickle.”

Cas clenched his jaw before nodding at the hunter. Dean shimmied in closer to the angel so that one knee was touching Cas’s own, and the other was nudged against his ass. It was weird as hell, but he was gonna have to get close to get a good scrub going. Besides, Cas didn’t seem to mind.

“Tip your head back,” Dean said, grabbing a plastic cup and filling it under the tub’s faucet.

The hunter brought the cup up to Cas’s purple mane, cupping the back of his head again, and poured the water over his hair. He squeezed the bottle over the angel’s head. The more the merrier, he supposed.

Dean worked the soap into a lather quickly, trying his best to really work his fingers into the angel’s slightly curly hair. At some point, the angel had let his eyes flutter closed which, Dean reasoned, was probably for the best so the angel wasn’t just staring at the ceiling the whole freakin’ time. And, to his relief, Cas didn’t seem to be in too much pain, even as Dean could feel resistance meeting his kneading fingers. 

Dean pushed and pulled against the thick goo, mind wandering a little as he got into the rhythm of it. That was, until he tugged particularly hard and heard a sharp intake of breath from the angel.

“Sorry, man. Must’ve been a pretty bad knot,” Dean said as he finally looked over at Cas’s face.

The angel’s face was a rosie pink, and it didn’t seem like it was entirely from the scrubbing either. No, it was a familiar flush Dean had seen under him many times before on various partners, but he knew it couldn’t be from that. This was a celestial being for cryin’ out loud, not some bar hook-up. The furrow of the angel’s brow must be from pain. And he wasn’t quite sure when the angel had stopped making noises but he could see now why. Cas seemed to be biting his lip almost to the point of drawing blood.

“Buddy, it’s okay, let it out, I’m not gonna make fun of you for making some noise, I know this must hurt like a bitch. And I don’t want you tearing your freakin’ lip in half,” Dean said.

The angel didn’t respond, and his lashes only fluttered a little.

“Cas, did you hear me?” Dean halted his fingers mid-knead and started to draw them out of the Cas’s hair. 

Cas let out an honest-to-God whimper.

Dean’s eyes widened at the way Cas’s mouth suddenly dropped in a silent ‘O’. The angel took a long ragged breath before his eyes finally slid open.  He seemed to blink back to life, as though he was drifting down from somewhere far, far away. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas’s hands clenching in the fabric of his sweatpants-- _Dean’s_ sweatpants--at the sides of his thighs. Dean’s eyes took in the motion but immediately snapped to the angel’s lap when he noticed... _that_ whole situation. 

Oh.

_ Oh. _

For a moment, he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the extremely prominent hard-on pushing against the stretchy fabric. The angel’s hands seemed to be squirming at his sides and in his lap, pulling at the pants like he was trying to relieve the tightness he was probably feeling.

“Dean?”

Dean’s eyes flew up to the  _ very _ dilated blue eyes that must’ve been on him for a while. Dean was sure his cheeks matched that flush of Cas’s even as he averted his gaze to anywhere but the squirming angel. 

“S-Sorry, Cas,” Dean kept his eyes firmly focused on his flexing fingers which hovered over the angel’s still-soapy hair, “Didn’t mean to h-hurt ya there.”

Oh, but it wasn’t pain the angel was feeling. That much was clear as day, but what the hell was he supposed to do?! He still had to get the rest of the crap out of the angel’s hair. Maybe he could make Cas do the rest by himself...but the thought of leaving now made Dean feel a weird ache in the pit of his stomach. No, he’d stick through this and get the angel all squeaky clean because Dean Winchester was a good friend, dammit. 

The angel gulped, and the bob of his Adam’s apple under the taut flesh of his throat had Dean shifting in his seat a little.

“I-It’s alright,” Cas’s growly voice wrapped his brain in velvet. Dean scooched himself a little closer, glancing at the bathroom door. Yup, it was still locked, “It, uh, it d-doesn’t hurt. Just the opposite.”

“Yeah?” Dean nodded dumbly.

“I, uh, I apologize,” a grumbly hum laced Cas’s words, “I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“H-How do you feel?”

Dean had asked the question before he even had time to rein back his thinking. He knew damn well what the angel was feeling--that rather impressive tent in his pants could tell Dean as much. So why was he asking when he already knew? Why did he have to urge to hear the angel actually say it?

“I feel...warm,” Cas’s voice was evening out again since Dean hadn’t been working his hair for a bit, “Overheated, actually. And, uh... _ tingly _ ? I believe it’s ‘arousal’.”

“Oh, uh,” Dean’s jaw was flexing like he was trying to work peanut butter out of his mouth.

“I apologize if that makes you uncomfortable,” Was the angel actually being bashful? “I can take over from here if you…”

“No,” Dean’s voice snapped into him like a freight train, “I mean, no, don’t worry about it. I said I’d help you so I will. If you still want--”

“Yes,” Cas bit his bottom lip once again, “Um, you may continue, Dean.”

This time, when Dean resumed working his fingers through Cas’s hair, he never let his gaze leave the angel’s face. Cas’s features had gone slack, and his eyes lolled back into his head at the first rough pull of his strands. Dean almost couldn’t breathe. He’d known the angel for how many years? And he’d never once seen Cas like this. It was intoxicating.

Dean gave a small purposeful tug because  _ this could not possibly be happening _ , and a little bolt of lightning shot straight to his cock when Cas immediately palmed himself through the sweatpants before forcing his hand down to brace against the tub. Dean licked his suddenly-dry lips.

Dean tugged again.

Cas’s already open mouth let out a guttural moan that Dean had only heard in pornos. But it was different with this noise.  _ This  _ noise, Dean knew the angel couldn’t possibly be faking. It seemed to pour out of him from the bottoms of his lungs. Whatever kind of primal nonsense was pumping through the angel right now, that was all the work of Dean’s (apparently) talented fingers.

On a third firm tug that had Cas grabbing onto Dean’s own shaky knee, the angel opened his heavy-lidded eyes and stared at Dean. Dean licked his lips again and the angel seemed to mirror his movement, his little pink tongue sliding over spit-slick, bitten lips. Cas’s slack jaw twitched, opening and closing his mouth but no words came out

“C-Cas?” Dean eyed the dark-haired wet dream sitting in front of him, “You...alright, buddy?”

The angel blinked at him slowly, like his brain couldn’t quite catch up. His hands squeezed at his sides before he finally spoke.

“D-Dean...I do not understand,” Cas’s voice was milky and deep. Dean gulped.

“Huh, well,” Dean’s laugh sounded strained even to his own ears, “You’ve had sex before, right? That’s all you’re feelin’, man. No big deal.”

But, oh God, it  _ was  _ a big deal. And from the looks of it Cas had a big…

_ Nope. Just nope. Lock it down, Winchester. _

“But I-- _ urggghh! Dean! _ ” Cas freakin’  _ moaned _ .

Dean hadn’t meant to cut the angel off, he’d just wanted to get going again so they could get this done with. Cas’s hands flew up to Dean’s wrists, the hunter’s fingers had frozen in place once again. For a moment Dean thought maybe he’d really hurt his friend this time, but Cas wasn’t pulling his hands away--he had a death grip on Dean and was pushing at him to go harder.

“C-Cas?” Dean’s crackling voice echoed in the small bathroom, as he rose up from his seat. He stared down into the lust-soaked eyes looking at him like he hung the moon.

“Please...Dean... _ need _ more...”

_ Fuck it. _

Dean buried his fingers in Cas’s sudsy waves, pulling and tugging, working his blunt nails into the sensitive scalp. Dean had worked into a new, relentless rhythm that had the angel writhing under his touch. Eyes squeezed shut, Cas’s body shook and strained. He wiggled so much in his seat that he nearly toppled over. The angel saved himself at the last moment by balling his fists in the fabric at Dean’s hips. The angel’s panting breath now ran hot over the tight denim over Dean’s crotch.

_ When had  _ that  _ happened? _

“Jesus,” Dean rasped, hands only picking up their brutal pace.

Cas’s eyes fluttered open around a moan, and his heavy gaze immediately fell to where the hard line of Dean’s cock was straining. 

_ Damn those lashes _ , Dean thought as soon as the dark pools of the angel’s eyes followed the line of his body up to Dean’s freckled face.

“  _ Dean _ ,” God, that voice was gonna be the death of him.

The angel’s grip grew tighter, as his arms slowly brought him ever closer to the hunter. On an aggressive pull at the crown of his head, Cas’s eyes snapped shut, jaw dropping open. He seemed to double over, face nearly slamming into Dean’s groin. A breath punched out of the hunter at the sudden rough contact.

A throaty groan ripped out of Dean as Cas seemed to spiral further into the onslaught of sensations he was feeling, face unconsciously nuzzling into the hunter’s groin. Cas’s moans turned into warm vibrations that thrummed straight to Dean’s aching dick.

“C-Cas...I... _ ugh...fuck _ ,” Dean growled, continuing his unceasing ministrations.

It was taking nearly all of the hunter’s will to keep from rocking against the goddamn  _ face in his lap _ .

Dean’s words seemed to break the angel from his trance enough for him to take in the hunter’s own, no doubt, equally wrecked state. Dragging a shaky hand away from the hunter’s hip, Cas’s feather-light touch came to rest over the straining zipper which was slowly becoming Dean’s new nemesis. The normally confident angelic hand seemed to hesitate where it rested. Dean’s hands suddenly stilled as the pleading, sexed-up look the angel-- _ his _ angel--was giving him seemed to beg for permission. Dean’s head was nodding before the word ‘yes’ had even floated to the surface of his muddied thoughts.

“Please, baby, _ please _ ,” Dean’s voice was only a raw whisper.

The hunter's hips twitched with anticipation as Cas’s hands joined together to unbutton and unzip the restricting denim--blue eyes never leaving green. His thumbs hooked in the belt loops for somewhere to grip and Dean groaned at the eased tension and involuntarily flexed his fingers where they were still clinging to the angel. Cas let loose a wanton  _ grrr _ that sent sparks out to Dean’s toes.

In seconds they had returned into an undulating, steady pace with Dean working through the angel’s hair while Cas’s wet lips mouthed over the hunter’s boxer-clad cock. Each guttural sound Dean yanked out of the angel buzzed up through his body, bringing him startlingly close to creaming his pants like a goddamn teenager.

“Dean, _ Ugh _ ,” Cas whimpered.

“Fuck, angel,” Now Dean’s hips really were rocking into that scalding hot touch, “Feel so good…”

“  _ Dean _ ...? Wha- _ unnhh! _ ”

Suddenly Cas’s grip on the hunter’s jeans tightened into a vice and bright, nearly terrified eyes flew up to Dean’s. The angel’s previously-rolling hips were spasming where he sat, his untouched cock visibly twitching under the sweatpants-- _ Dean’s _ sweatpants. A dark spot blooming brillantly against the heather grey. The angel's limbs shook, bare toes curled. Without meaning to, Dean’s hands tightened their grip in Cas’s hair to keep him from tipping over, the angel’s eyes rolled back of their own volition and his hips gave another violent twitch.

_ Did he just…? _

Cas’s chest heaved, as though air would not stay in his lungs. Though the thought flashed through Dean’s mind that the angel didn’t actually require oxygen. His entire body seemed like it was teetering on the edge as little post-orgasmic jolts that had him screwing his eyes shut. Dean’s fingers freezing their movements once again.

“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean rasped.

“Dean…? What just…?” Cas panted, heavy eyelids fluttering open and closed.

“You just came, like,  _ just _ from this,” Dean said, accidentally pulling the angel’s strands once again.

This time the angel did wince in pain, mouth frowning in discomfort.

“I, uh, my scalp appears to be overly sensitive now,” Cas huffed.

“Hell, I don’t know if you can get more sensitive than that, buddy,” Dean gave a breathy laugh as he gingerly let his soapy hands slide down to the back of the angel’s neck.

Cas shot him a half-hearted glare.

“If you wish for me to assist you any further with that,” Cas’s eyes darted to the still throbbing bulge in Dean’s boxers, “you will refrain from calling me ‘buddy’. I believe we are beyond that at this point.”

“That’s fair,” Dean chuckled, “Dude, that was like, the  _ hottest  _ thing I’ve ever seen.”

Cas’s small blush made something clench in the hunter’s chest that didn’t seem to have anything to do with the ache between his legs.

“I don’t know about that,” the angel didn’t meet his eyes, “I am still unsure how that happened.”

“Hate to break it to you but, if you didn’t learn that from April then y’all did it wrong,” Dean immediately regretted his words.

Even the mention of that reaper bitch’s name had Dean gulping back a ripple of anger. Not only had she fuckin’ _ killed _ Cas, but she’d also...well, been his first. And while Dean hadn’t quite understood why the thought of some chick macking on the angel always made his stomach twinge in pain, at least now he had a better idea.

“Dean, I am well aware that reaching sexual climax is the goal of intercourse. But we--uh, we didn’t actually do... _ that _ . Hair was not created to be a source of sexual gratification.”

“Huh,” Dean couldn’t help letting the pad of his thumb graze over the flustered angel’s stubble. God, now that he  _ could _ touch him,  _ had _ touched him, Dean  _ wanted _ to touch him. Every angelic inch, “Guess you learn somethin’ new everyday. And today we learned that even angels can get kinky.”

Dean’s smirk only widened when he winked and Cas actually blushed.

“It, uh, it never felt like  _ that _ before. With April, I mean…” Cas let a little coy smile slip onto his features and Dean was suddenly very aware of the rock-hard problem he still had going downstairs.

“Well, angel,” Dean tilted the angel’s chin to meet blue orbs, “if you think that felt nice, there’s a whole kinky world out there to explore. I can think of a million different uses for that dorky tie you wear all the time.”

“Oh, could you?” Cas’s voice dropped impossibly lower as he nuzzled into the hunter’s loose grip. One of the angel’s hands came back up to grip at Dean’s pant leg, eyeing the still-prominent heft inches from his face. Cas’s brilliant blue eyes gazed up through dark lashes. There was not just lust or want filling the angel’s eyes. No, there was unabashed, unrelenting, and blissfully overwhelming love lacing those eyes. Dean could hardly breathe.

One moment he was staring into Cas’s eyes like he’d done a million more times than he’d ever admit to, and the next Dean’s mouth was diving into the angel’s. A squeak left Cas, the noise had Dean grinning against the angel’s still-slack lips. The hunter readily took the opportunity to leave little kitten licks along Cas’s bottom lip, begging for entry. Cas’s mouth parted on a surprised gasp at the sensation, a gasp that ended in Cas slipping Dean  _ his _ tongue instead. And though angels might not need oxygen, Dean certainly did.

Pulling away with a gasp, the hunter felt sheer amazement rattling through his bones at the delicious sight that was  _ Cas _ . He’d been so eager and riding high on whatever the fuck they’d just stumbled into, Dean had forgotten…

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean started to chuckle, “We should probably finishing getting that purple crap out of your hair, huh?”

He met Dean’s beaming face with a gummy grin of his own.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” Cas began, “But I believe I may need another few moments before you touch my hair again...though a truly awe-inspiring sensation, I believe it would be...overwhelming still.”

Dean smiled and let his thumb run over the angel’s bottom lip, “Sounds like a plan, man.”

The angel’s heavy gaze darted down to the hunter’s boxers once again, and just like that, Dean felt like someone had lit sparklers under his skin.

“I could...continue if you’d like…while we wait...?” Cas’s eyes widened in false innocence.  
“Fuck, yes, _please_ ,” Dean groaned, “You’re gonna be the death of me, angel.”

“I that case, I’ll just have to grip you tight once again.”

Dean threw back his head in laughter.

“God Cas, don’t ever change.”


End file.
